


But a Walk In the Woods

by BuddingClover



Category: Original Work
Genre: BDSM, Bladder Control, Bloodplay, Exhibitionism, F/M, Impact Play, Master/Pet, Outdoor Sex, POV First Person, POV Second Person, Reader has a vagina, Reader has breasts, Semi-Public Sex, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:54:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24200056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuddingClover/pseuds/BuddingClover
Summary: This tale - loosely based on real events from before I began my transition - features the thrilling tale of one couple's late-night trysts in a woodland park.Violence archival warning included to be on the safe side.  There's no gore or wounds involved, but this work does include references to, and depictions of, sexual violence in the context of a consensual BDSM relationship.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Original Male Character/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	1. Attire

**Author's Note:**

> But A Walk In the Woods is an older work of mine, from around 2015.
> 
> My relationship to it is...complex, to say the least. I am proud of it, but given its age I feel like it's not quite up to par with what I write now. But more to the point, it was written before I came out as a trans woman, and so my ability to "connect" with the work, so to speak, is diminished because of it. Still, it's a complete work that hasn't been seen by a whole tone of people, so I figured it would do me some good to diversify the perspectives in my work. lmfao
> 
> As always, read on if you want to be surprised; see the end notes for content/trigger warnings.

A chorus of silence sings between us, full and vibrant. It screams to fill up the near-absolute blackness of the car, a little slice of darkness pierced only by tiny motes of red, green and blue cast by the instruments. The wind outside is neatly shredded by the steel frame and cuts around us in a muffled rush. Heat seeps through the cracks and vents and burns its way through the chugging work of the AC unit; I pass you a bottle of water to keep yourself from sweating to death in it.

For the time being, I let the feather-light dance of my fingertips along the inside of your thigh speak for me. We made small talk for a while – oh, we did. But what's coming is too heavy on our mind for that now.

You and I have been waiting for this ever since we tripped over this sick little fetish we share. We're speeding off to the nearby park in the dead of the night, ready to hit its twisting woodland trails. A heady blaze engulfs us as we both hope to God no one sees us – especially not the cops checking for late-night trespassers – while fighting that white-hot thrill begging to spill from our tummies and into our limbs when we think about someone actually watching.

Am I sweating? I think I'm sweating bullets over here.

Far too soon the ride is over. We must have been rocketing on our way - did our tires even touch the road? I don't think either of us payed attention to anything but the other's mercurial breath. It's lucky we didn't run off into a ditch or some field of crop. Feels like somewhere I blinked and we went straight from my driveway and to this parking lot. It's all the same – I've waited for someone I could live this out with for too long as it is. Any longer and I might actually burst a blood vessel in both heads. I take your empty plastic bottle, and notice you still seem a little parched – while I'm collecting all of our favorite toys into a large backpack, I hand you another.

Gingerly, we steal out of the dark car like cat burglars hoping to score the prize of their careers. What an astute metaphor. You certainly are a prize worthy of any career – of a lifetime, really. It's just as dark outside, even with the occasional standing lamp. Hell, it's almost midnight. Not too smart since I have work and you classes in the morning, but neither of us would be getting a good night's sleep without this anyway.

I take in a deep breath and sift through my surroundings. Even the early autumn heat carries its own distinct scent, one of wild flowers and dimly-recalled childhood freedom. Mingled into that is the cotton-like fluff of recently-past rains. It tingles along the inside of my lungs alongside the thickness of damp wood, wet cement and tire-burnt asphalt. But underneath it all is that sharp undercurrent I've been searching for.

A deliciously bitter twang scorches the air around you, burning its way through me as it fights through damp cotton.

My hands are already across every inch of you. Any sense of control is gone after that. My fingers are brutally tearing your clothes to shreds. I'm like a starved man clawing through the wrapper of his favorite food. I take my painful time with your bra, making sure to bask my face in the warmth of your breasts. Pinching nips of my teeth work their way from one nipple and across the inside of your bosom to the other. A single moan is all I get out of you. That won't do.

Growling with an almost furious tempo, I bury my nails into the soft flesh and twist each opposite of the other. Your tits damn near come tearing off as I strain them as far as the skin will allow. I can't help but fall in love with you all over again, the way your back arches and you delicate hands grip my shoulders for purchase. Ah, there's what I'm looking for. That piercing scream warms my heart as it echoes across the deserted park. I can almost see it rocketing through the treetops over yonder and I'm sure it bounced for miles along the empty roads behind them.

All the same, your heat below just ramped up a damn-near dozen degrees and began pumping out a slick juice to slather the knee I'm grinding into it.

The needles I call teeth are already piercing into the firm cartilage of your ear. I'm snarling into it, nearly burying my tongue deep into your ear drum. Unwavering authority rumbles across my voice as I tell you to shut up – that you and your filthy mind have brought this on yourself. My hand is nearly scorched by a fire erupting between your thighs as I slap that soaking hole I'll soon be burying myself in – wet smack after wet smack rings out as I beat its quivering lips into a puffy mound. You're my bitch now and I make sure that there's no thought inside you otherwise.

A moist heat of my own lubricates my cracked lips as I run my tongue across them. Maybe you can see it shining in the moonlight. Still, I'm standing here with this twisted grip on your breasts and I'd better do something with that before I tear them clean off. Between tear-stained blinks you feel yourself thrown bodily onto the hood of the car, my piercing grip sliding off the bruised flesh that's all I've left of your chest.

Even swallowed in the darkness of this late hour I can clearly see the sex-crazed terror in your eyes. Am I going to fuck you right here, like this, not but fifty feet from where wholesome families while away their innocent afternoons? Gods above, don't fucking tempt me with that look or that whimpering quiver in your bottom lip. Metal screams in agony when I slam my shaking fists into the hood between your thighs – the pain is the only thing that twists the collar back around the animal inside of me.

I'm nearly scraping the skin off my knuckles. They're pressing down as hard as I can muster into the steel beneath you, as my arms hookunder your knees to spread your legs as wide as your hips will allow. Sadistic, maybe, but I can't help the tooth-filled smirk watching your body shiver and quake. How much of that is fear, and how much of it is the darkened embers inside your churning womb just begging for me to reach my iron-hard flesh in and stoke them into an inferno so wild it blisters us both?

Quietly now. I slide my head between your thighs to press my face against your dripping slit. So much of you has soaked these tiny, adorable panties – my nose is almost splitting you in half trying to bury itself into you through them. One gentle nip at your pretty nub makes you jump and squeal. It's almost rock hard, just like your straining nipples, and poking a little button out of the cloth. I'm going to enjoy every second of breaking it back into a more supple form. But they say patience is a virtue, and right now I couldn't think of a sweeter ambrosia than the hurt look on your face when you realize how far I've gone just to tease you.

Catching the fabric between my teeth, a sudden jerk of my head reduces your panties to torn fabric. Unbidden - but not entirely unwelcome - a vicious grin splits my lips as I tilt my head back to glare up into your eyes. The message in my own is clear. This is the only way you're allowed to present yourself around me now. Naked, soft, vulnerable; waiting with equal parts hesitation and excitement to have your slutty body ripped into shreds one cock-starving hole at a time.

Did your pussy just shudder hard enough to spew on me? I didn't think you could get any wetter.

But no – this isn't happening here. Steel aches in my loins, your hands slide against it through my jeans. Fuck, I have to reign this shit in before I lose any more control. Tonight has been planned almost down to the minute. Why do you have to be so goddamn perfect, presenting yourself like a fucking slab of meat in front of a starving hound? Lord knows I'm about to blow myself now and shoot everything down the drain – and all across your face and chest.

Next thing you know I've got you ripped back up to your feet. A vice grip tightens around your wrist as one hand holds it high above your head, stealing away your sense of balance. The other locks around your throat mid-exhale. I can only imagine the fire erupting in your lungs. You're dragged bodily and crushed tightly against me like this, my lips brushing ever-so-gently against your ears as I whisper to you – tell you all the nasty little pleasantries you so love to hear.

You're such a fucking easy slut. My cock must have scooped out whatever little brains you had years ago. All you're worth now is how tight and warm you can keep my dick. Daddy's going fuck you until you're raw and bleeding.

Then He's going to break you until the sun comes up.

Hissing leather slithers around your throat as my hand leaves – but the crushing grip remains. The tight strength of your collar feels ready to collapse inwards, ruining your larynx. Just a hair's breadth too small, I love the way the flesh of your throat bulges out over the top and user the bottom or the band in a vain attempt to relieve the pressure.  
Chimes of steel ring out behind you. The shocked explosion in your eyes makes it clear that it takes you no time at all to recognize the intimate weight of your leash. I wonder if that torch burning in your chest has suddenly erupted and scorched its way down into your gut, using your bone and meat as kindling all the way. I've walked you like an animal before – but never completely naked, and not in public. I can see your head whipping from side to side in what I can only assume is a frantic urge to see if we're truly alone.

We can't have that. I can't have you distracted by anxiety – it'll kill this for both of us. You're whipped around to face me again and the back of my fist catches you solidly across the jaw. Almost piercing through you, my voice takes a sharp, curt edge to slice through your tensions. The command is simple – you will keep your eyes here and do as you are told.

And if you should be seen? Let them fantasize about throwing you to the asphalt and ravaging you one after another. A razor smirk catches the edge of my lips. Let them be jealous and wish they could take you from me.

Daddy's petty that way.

Jerking you to the side, my hand digs against your spine and bends you forward over the hood once more. Your feet are knocked aside to spread your legs. Makes it easier for me to run a finger against the tight pucker between those thick, juicy cheeks back here. A quick gasp parts your lips – before you can ask me what I'm doing, your mouth is stuffed by the smooth, supple texture of silicone. Getting a good look at what I'm doing to you nearly sends you cross-eyed, but it's not too difficult to catch a glimpse of the flowing black fur hanging past your lips.

A cat's tail lies bundled on the metal beneath you. Which makes the bulb I'm rolling across your tongue, and lewdly gagging you with as the whim strikes me, the plug to hold it in your –

Your eyes are wide again, and I can hear the muffled shout. You're begging for more time, pleading for me to loosen you up first. Silly harlot – you're ass is as much my toy as the rest of you. One I've worked and plumbed down to its deepest secrets countless times. You're ready for this and you can't lie to me. Snarling at your antics, I yank the plug from between your lips with a wet pop.

Suddenly I'm jamming it into your twitching asshole with a similar popping. Rolled back into your brainless head, your eyes pour rivers of tears with each wracking sob as the gently sloped point suddenly flares out to the locking ridge so wide it rips the waiting hole for your new tail to bloody halves. Anyone else might think I'm raping you, the way I'm assaulting every nook and cranny. But pressed so tightly against you as I am, I feel it.

The thunderous quake in your muscles. The way your toes curl against the hard ground.

The first orgasm of the night ripping through you.

A single moment of mercy. I allow you time to twitch and moan all you need, to gather your wits and ride out the last vestige of your little trip 'round the stars. You can feel me bent over you, my arms wrapped around your waist to keep you pinned. Another bottle of water is pressed into your hands to rehydrate you after shooting so much of your juice across the parking lot.

My voice is soft now. It contrasts so harshly with my tone before it hurts your ears almost as much. With it, I ask if you're sure you want to finish this – if you're ready to keep going. We stay here like this, my body shielding you from the cooling breeze of nearby lakes until you're coherent enough to give me that weak nod I've been waiting for. That I've been hoping for, my fingers crossed in prayer inside of my mind.

Viciously, with an iron grip wrapped around several feet of your leash, I tear you back off the hood by it. The gurgling strangle from deep within your throat is so beautiful. Here's one of the best parts, for me. Grace and poise in your dance while you stumble backwards, trying to keep your balance while slipping into the black stripper heels I've set out for you while you were recovering. So close, now. One hand grips your shoulder tight enough to bruise your delicate flesh, the other clipping a pair of kitten's ears into your hair.

And with that we're off. The crunching of gravel and pulverized asphalt beneath the knife-point of your heels is both soothing and exciting. Every step farther from the car is another chance for some late-night strollers to stumble upon us, but another step closer to brutalizing you just the way we both neee it. So I march you ahead of me, tugging firmly on your lead as needed to keep you in the right direction. You can't see it, but I'm smiling with the way those dainty little bells hanging off your new ears sing in time to the sultry saunter you're putting on display for me. Picture perfect. I'm half-tempted to snap a photo or two of you to keep the memory of this night alive, but I think the flash might be tempting fate. Instead I settle for a low whistle and an appreciative slap of your still twitching ass.

Other than that, the walk to the start of the trails is quiet enough. Whoever the other handful of cars flaunting the park's curfew belong to, we never see them. Which is just as well because it only adds to the fantasy. Maybe there's that many other eager-to-please sluts, just like you, all out for their midnight walkies with their depraved attackers, just like me. Hell, maybe we can start a walking club for little fuck-pets and you can all wrestle and play all night long. Wouldn't that be a fun way to spend our Sunday evenings?

All too soon we reach the forest's edge. I really need to stop letting myself get so lost in thought. Ebony blackness yawns before us as far as the eye can see, ringed by the swaying branches of carefully cultivated bushes and oaks. During the day, I guess it's meant to seem like the magical doorway to some fantasy woods. Now it's nothing so much as the gaping maw of some terrible beast stretching wide to gobble the both of us whole.

You're shivering now way, more than you were before. If I wasn't here right behind you I might think you were standing naked in some winter breeze. Truth be told I'm glad you can't see me right now. I can only imagine how a single moment of hesitation contorts the features of my face into something ugly and unsure. All that shaking, and it's difficult for me to think you really want this. But I gave you your way out and you rejected it – I'd hate to fall out of character now and shatter the mood we've both worked so hard to set.

From somewhere deep in my gut I'm conjuring forth every ounce of control I have. You only hear me slowly drawing a great breath through my nose – you probably think I'm sniffing the air for competitors for your affection, or something equally silly but in-character for the scene. Really, it's just nerve-wracking to trust myself enough to give you the final command that you're standing there waiting for.

Get your fucking ass in there, you worthless slab of fuckmeat.

The whimper that escapes your throat when you feel the barbed tips of a well-worn whip tear into the left cheek of your ass tells me all I need to know.

Maybe not all that original. But it worked.


	2. Filth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But A Walk In the Woods is an older work of mine, from around 2015.
> 
> My relationship to it is...complex, to say the least. I am proud of it, but given its age I feel like it's not quite up to par with what I write now. But more to the point, it was written before I came out as a trans woman, and so my ability to "connect" with the work, so to speak, is diminished because of it. Still, it's a complete work that hasn't been seen by a whole tone of people, so I figured it would do me some good to diversify the perspectives in my work. lmfao
> 
> As always, read on if you want to be surprised; see the end notes for content/trigger warnings.

Stepping into the belly of the beast seems to transport us to another world. The already muted sounds of some distant country road all but fall away from our ears, replaced by the gentle rhythm of the forest we're trespassing in. The rise and fall of crickets chirping washes over us from all around in the darkness, a low and gentle breeze singing in time with them as it whistles between the trees. I relish the gentle crunch of gravel beneath your shoes as you swing gorgeous hips to whore-walk that amazing ass in front of me. If I wasn't hard before, my dick is about to tear itself off of me by now.

I think it's time we got serious about this, then. You turn to me, your mouth open to speak – and I smack it so hard you spin away from me before finally dropping to the slick path like a stone. Mud and grime coat your skin and soak into your hair as you sprawl in stunned silence, gasping and struggling to form a coherent thought, as minuscule pebbles and chips of bark bite against your body. There's just enough pressure for it to feel like hundreds of tiny daggers scraping away at you – but nothing breaks your skin. You have been toughened up far beyond such simple fare by now.

In the time it takes for you to regain your senses – I hear the agonized hiss you try to hide and push an urge to cringe in sympathy as far beneath my lust as I can manage – I'm already pinning you down on your back. One knee digs up into the space between your stomach and your lungs, forcing the breath out of you to keep you too busy struggling for your breath to object. The other grinds into the slick heat roiling out of your pussy, taking careful note to assault the length of your slit in a rolling motion. It helps to keep you caught between agony and a burning need to have your insides re-arranged around me.

It keeps your beautifully painted lips parted just enough for what's next.

Gasping for air, you seem to be struggling to fill the dry burn in your lungs. The hard and cold plastic of a hallow ball is shoved into your mouth, holes piercing its sides to ease your breath. It's leather straps – thoroughly stained by the many colors of your lipstick – are pulled around your cheeks and meet behind your head. A sharp pinch catches either side of your mouth as the buckle of the gag is drawn to hold as tightly as your pretty little face will allow. Wrapping my fist in your hair, I jerk your head up to hold your face close enough to mine to trail my tongue from chin to forehead.

Disappointment is etched across my features as our eyes lock. Shaking my head, I remind you that animals don't speak in words – and they certainly don't walk on two legs. From here on out you'll keep that juicy little ass of yours high in the air so you can wag your tail while you crawl along on this private walk. And if you need something, you'll have to find a way to let me know like any other little house pet.

Ah, a heady thrill soaks my thoughts as I watch the defiance in your eyes sputter out. It coils up along my spine and sends a gentle shiver across my shoulders. Gods above, how I love breaking you into obedience.

Pathetic simpering whines break me from my reverie. My fingers slip from your silken locks and you're impatiently tugging at your leash, begging to crawl on deeper along the trail. What a good girl. Rumbling chuckles build up in my chest as I take up a leisurely pace behind you. A smile subtly plays along my lips as I watch you trot eagerly forward, swaying that beautifully crafted ass back and forth in an almost hypnotically slow pace. I find myself so overwhelmed by the display that I'm slowly stroking the firm length growing in the leg of my jeans without even thinking about it.

We continue like this for some time, turning at forks in the trail that take us deeper still into the woodlands. The trail slowly grows firmer as we pass beneath a steadily thickening canopy. It isn't until my eye catches the way your thighs are pressing together every few paces or so that I decide it's time to take you aside. So caught up in your act, you don't notice the pressure of the tautly stretched leash relaxing at your neck or hear the gentle crunching of gravel and dirt underfoot as I approach behind you.

You do notice the tearing pressure just inside your anal ring when I step on the tip of your tail and nearly yank it out.

Swinging your head around, you're blinking confused tears at me as your insides stretch and contort to slide the over-sized plug back into place within your tight depths. You see only a faint smile still gracing my lips as I nod gently towards the side of the path. Remember all that water I shoved down your cute little throat earlier? It must finally be getting to you. You must really have quite the pressure building up. Apprehensive horror seems to be pouring into your widening eyes. I couldn't possibly mean...

But I see the hand surreptitiously pressed to your tummy, just above your bladder. You can feel it now, I'm sure. Now that you're thinking about it, I can see in your face that you need to deal with your little situation quickly. You turn to me, leaning forward and pulling at your lead; you must be hoping that I'll walk you to the nearest bathroom. No such luck for you tonight.

Choking you with the collar around your throat, I roughly jerk back on the leash and literally drag you inch by laborious inch to my side. Finally, you can breathe again when you're stretched out on the ground at my feet. I kneel down next to you and gently rub your tensing shoulders. Underneath my breath I whisper to you. You've forgotten something very important, and I'll give you a chance to figure it out.

Muffled grunts escape around your gag as you try halfheartedly to pull away from me. It's all in vain, your leash is all wound up in my grip. Your disrespectful behavior only elicits a tittering from my lips as I stand tall and loom over you in the shadows – my features are obscured but for the sadistic glint of moonlight reflected by my dark eyes. I explain to you that animals don't use toilets. That's for people. They let it go wherever they happen to be, and that's exactly what I expect out of you for as long as you insist on playing this role.

I almost hesitate again. Even for me, this is probably a little extreme. But then you took great pains to relinquish your humanity. You may be fighting to hide it, but I know all about how you fantasize about having your rights and thoughts stripped from you – being broken and beaten into shape as a mindless beast. We both know how eager I am to work out my stress with your body on a regular night, so in the end I swallow my concerns. We both want this.

The embarrassment burning across your cheeks is precious to me. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were about to burst into flames. Either way, you gaze at me imploringly – hoping one last time I'll change my mind, no doubt. But we're both too set now. Mildly frustrated, I storm over and crack the stinging talon of the barbed whip against your open back. You can smell the tiny spray of blood misting into the air, and your whole body arches towards the dusty earth in response to the sharp lash.

My voice is iron again, reminding you that you wanted this – that you practically begged for it, and everything that it implied. I won't have you wasting both your time and mine by backing out now in the middle of it. Now you will move your sexy little tail over to the side of the path and do what you need to do. By this point I'm all but kicking you down in that direction – I smile when I hear a yelp from you as a cracking smack cuts in at a sharp angle against your ass. My wrist stings, but the whip gets you moving.

The scarlet in your cheeks puts the roses of a low-standing bush you begin crawling towards to shame. You try to crawl off the path and behind the plant – probably hoping to hide yourself from me. A few resolute tugs on the leash reminds you that you won't be leaving my sight. Whimpering, you turn around to face me while you plant down on wide-spread knees facing the bush. There's a sea of humiliated indignity flooding your expression, but I can see the excitement you struggle to hide. Here you are, forced to piss yourself dry in some unknown neck of the woods like a stupid animal. Your predicament seems to be fueling some nasty little hunger in your belly.

But I sigh in exasperation and yank at your lead again, startling you. My footfalls thud dully against the earthen trail as I storm over to you and grab about midway down your tail. Instinctively you clench the muscles along your insides to hold the plug as tightly as you can – after all, it feels like it's crushing your stomach whenever it moves. The violence in the way I yank at it incites another groan from you as you feel it press down against your already stretched bladder. I kneel down and discipline you with a single backhand to your other cheek – how careless of you to forget to move your precious tail out of the way and take the proper stance first?

I hear a quiet sniffle in apology. Tenderly, I lean down and trail a line of kisses along your cheek until the sting fades into a dull ache. Disciplining you isn't something I look forward to – seeing you disappointed in your own behavior like this stabs through me. But you must learn your place. I whisper to you that you need to assume the position first before I'll allow you to relieve yourself. You nod gently and, with my help, raise a single leg into the air giving yourself a clear shot. A nearby log serves as a rest for your leg, so that you don't have to worry about tiring yourself trying to balance on only three limbs and risk falling into your own mess.

Daddy will even help – I keep my grip on the tip of your tail, holding it up and out of the way. We end up staying here in this way for nearly a minute, your eyes shyly held tight as you pray under your breath that no one happens by to see you in such a filthy act. You aren't sure whether to gag or moan as your ears are assaulted by gurgling from your stream soaking into the earth behind you. It somehow manages to be both lewd and nauseating at the same time – but all this discomfort only makes it hotter for me to watch you.

Soon after you finish, you take a length of chain into your mouth - awkwardly around the gag, to be sure - and tug gently. I smile and stroke my chin. Are you ready to keep going? My fingers reach down to dance slowly through your hair, gently petting your head. What a good little girl, getting so deeply into your role. I relish the bright twinkle in your eyes as you slowly pace back and forth in front of me, rubbing your face against my open palm. Once I feel you've had your fill of petting, I step away from you and make familiar shooing motions with my free hand while rattling the metal links of your leash with the other. Time to move on and reach our destination – we don't have all night, after all.

As we amble along on our way again, I watch you bouncing from side to side along the path with a chuckle poised upon my lips. Looks like breaking that last barrier of modesty was all you needed to let yourself go completely. Now you're frolicking and ranging as far as your lead will allow, sniffing at flowers blooming along the trail and swaying that sexy ass of yours as you shuffle about on all fours. Saliva drips and pours from your trapped lips like a leaky faucet, slowly building up to coat your throat and tits in a shimmering glaze whenever you sit up to mewl for my hand or when you hiss at something that startles you. It's almost enough to push me over the edge and make me jump you now.

Soon enough, I tug sharply to the side with your leash. Off to the side of our path forks a smaller trail that you haven't explored before, and we quickly turn off the main path to take it. Your curious glance is met with a reassuring nod and a gentle flick of my hand to gesture onward. There isn't much to see given the late hour, but after some time the gentle babbling hush of flowing water can just be picked out from underneath the wind and the wildlife.

Following the path eventually deposits us into the side of a roughly egg-shaped clearing, split nearly in half by a swift river. The path itself swerves sharply to the left, exiting the clearing through it's thinner edge. Fields of lush grass sway gently in a breeze heading towards the river. Silver moonlight sparkles off the grass as it bends and creates the illusion in the darkness that the only earth here is the trail itself suspended atop a dark green lake.

With new purpose in my step, I lead you to the bank of the river and slip the heavy pack from my shoulders. It makes a quiet thud as it lands in the dirt. My hand pats the ground next to me, and when you lay yourself down at my side I take and unhook the metallic clasp of your leash from the collar. My fingers work the buckle of your gag and let the drool-soaked ball fall to the grass between your knees, and eventually reach up to remove the delicate cat ears from your hair. I bend you over at the waist and gently roll the crushing girth of the plug around inside your ass – every rotation sees the tight pucker of your ass grow less than an inch until the toy comes shooting out of you to leave you wide and empty.

I have to chuckle as an almost hurt look instantly colors your face. You've just been getting yourself lost in the bliss of having your control taken from you. I know how it must seem a terrible tease to turn that back around again. But don't worry, little one. The gentle squeeze of my fingers around your throat promises that this is just for a moment. After all, soon enough you'll have to contend with far more than just a leash when I have you strung up like a public slut. I find that I'm licking my lips in anticipation, the way you squirm and cry around the brutal spreading of your ass.

Your gaze seems to survey your new surroundings with a bit more critical detail, now that you have the time. The river before you is shockingly clean with a bed of dirt and stone. You can see through its three to four foot depth with ease, even in the darkness, and notice a pair of sleek fish darting close by each other as they travel its length. Would it be too romantic to imagine them another pair of lovers out to share in the primal depth of their passions?

Eventually your eyes are drawn across the river, where you see a set of carved stone stairs leading up and over its other bank. Nestled into the clearing's wider end, an elegant stone gazebo stands empty and waiting. It's fancifully carved conical roof rises above the smaller trees and depicts a variety of birds in flight, supported by a circle of wide columns. A wooden lattice rings its sitting area with a coat of greyish-white paint to blend with the stone. It's an appealing little slice of rural serenity, if not perhaps a tad ostentatious.

Your distraction amuses me, and I let you wander your gaze about as I unzip the main pouch of my backpack. Out of the corner of my eye I see you watching me as I pull out a plastic lantern, with a long, thin bulb instead of oil. A simple flip of a switch underneath its base and a powerful light washes over the both of us for several feet. From the look of you I almost fall over dead with laughter – and quickly apologize to mollify the offense that flashes over your features.

All that mud you had been crawling around in when we first started this little journey has pretty much dried on to your curves in layers. It is caked in your hair, gluing it together in thick ropes. Stretches of dirt discolor your beautiful skin in splotches of brown and black. Completing the image, all that dried mud has trapped little bits of wood, stones, and a number of other objects i can't identify right off the bat. All in all, you must feel disgusting trapped in that mess.

Still you couldn't look any more beautiful to me. I'm pinning you to the grass – gently this time – both arms wrapped as tightly around you as I can without hurting you. My lips are pressed to yours and parting them to help ease my tongue into your mouth. I brush it along the length of your own, before using it with an excruciatingly slow pace to once again map the depth and features of your mouth. Longingly, my hands drift down to caress your hips when I feel your legs wrap themselves around my waist as you strive to match the base and feral passion I'm pumping into you.


	3. Purity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But A Walk In the Woods is an older work of mine, from around 2015.
> 
> My relationship to it is...complex, to say the least. I am proud of it, but given its age I feel like it's not quite up to par with what I write now. But more to the point, it was written before I came out as a trans woman, and so my ability to "connect" with the work, so to speak, is diminished because of it. Still, it's a complete work that hasn't been seen by a whole tone of people, so I figured it would do me some good to diversify the perspectives in my work. lmfao
> 
> As always, read on if you want to be surprised; see the end notes for content/trigger warnings.

When we break apart, I bring a hand up to gently caress the flaming bruises I've left on your cheek. I know it must still ache. That's why I brought you here. A bath to wash away the muck and stings before my passions turn brutal again.

Having said my piece, I lapse into a tranquil silence once more as I stand. My gentle grip around your hand raises you to your own feet and pulls you close to me so that I can nearly drown you in another wild kiss. Perhaps I'm losing too much of the character I'm supposed to be getting into tonight, but I just can't help myself. Having you resting in my arms out here with this fresh air breezing past us, baring not just your flesh but your heart, sends a cooling tremor down the length of my spine that has nothing to do with the electric thrill of dominating you.

I chastise myself for again drifting off into my thoughts, and lead you to the banks of the river. Herding you to the water before me, I make sure to rid myself of everything I don't need – by the time I wade in after you I'm as bare as you've been. At some point while you were slowly pulling yourself into the chilly flow I picked up a plastic bag that now rests heavy in my grip with several objects.

The way your eyes flick towards it isn't lost on me. I just smile and shake it a little. You'll learn what I have here soon enough. Out of character I cluck slightly from the side of my mouth when my bare foot first sinks into the river. Never much cared for the cold. I just glare at you when I catch you struggling to contain your childish giggling. I might be more offended by that if it wasn't one of the traits I find irresistible about you.

As it is I just find myself rolling my eyes and slowly wading deeper in despite my body's very vocal protests. Years of discipline are all that quell the twitch that threatens to pull at the corner of my eyes, or the way my body begs to jerk backwards and back to the warm air. You're enjoying yourself with this and I won't abandon you – it's a cold refreshing break from the muggy heat. Instead, all you see is a placid smile as I work my way towards you, the bag held out of the water as I sling its handles over my shoulder like the straps of a purse.

Once I reach you I gently take a hold of your shoulders and order you to relax. Just let yourself go and float along. I'll take care of the rest. Gentle hymns vibrate off my lips to lull you into a sense of peace, and a single hand holds you up above the surface of the water by your back while the other gently rolls your matted tresses to free them of the dirt and mud sticking them together. Lethargy begins to seep out of your muscles and into your blood. Fluttering like vibrantly colored butterflies, your eyes eventually fall shut and less and less of your weight presses down against my hand. This is exactly how I want you for this. Not asleep, but caught somewhere blissfully between dreams of what's yet to come this night and a blurry sort of consciousness about your surroundings.

Rustling plastic fills the air for a moment while I retrieve a bottle from my bag and uncap it with a quiet snap. A small dollop of its contents oozes across the base of your hairline just where it meets your bare forehead. It smells of flowers and fruits, none of which I really have the nose to identify. All I know is that this is one of your favorites. Keenly aware of the smile blossoming across your full lips, I take my hand away from your back entirely and let you float in front of me. My fingers firmly massage and scrub the shampoo from your head down to the very ends of your hair. It froths quickly as it attacks all the grime choking your locks and sends a thin stream of bubbling foam down along the path of the river's flow.

Whatever tension you had been holding in your muscles, unsure of what I planned to do to you, finally now melts away. I dig my fingers into your scalp to be sure that I break up all of the mud that sunk in against it, massaging circles around your head in the process. This massage eventually moves down to your shoulders and neck while I wait for the frothing suds to soak thoroughly into each strand of your hair. The bass echo of my song seems to gently soak into your bones, rattling loose all of your daily stresses and aches.

Probably all too soon for you, my fingers are straining through your hair and rinsing it of the frothing suds. My hands cup themselves and lift a small volume of water above your forehead, slowly streaming it down and across your face to wash it of any remaining shampoo. When your eyes ponderously creep open and get trapped in mine, I smile down at you and take your face into my hands that I might lean over and press my lips to yours in perhaps the most chaste act of the night. No wild abusive lust that could easily land me in prison, nor soul-incinerating passion. Just the wish of one earthly man to mingle his body and mind with the woman he loves in her moment of peace.

Regrettably, I have to break our shared gaze to close the bottle once more and let it fall back into the bag. One hand is again underneath you for the time being to keep you from floating away from me on the current. Retrieving my next item is a little difficult with only one hand to fish around with, but I manage and let a fresh bar of light-green soap fall into your view. It carries its own scent – in which lingers the faintest hints of floral essences and some undercurrent that sends a cooling tingle down the nostrils.

I start with your tummy and gently swirl the bar in spirals out and back in. The tickling foam that spreads across your skin in its wake sends you into a fit of giggling, and I have to keep my hold on you to keep you from sinking before you are able to control yourself again. Without warning I shift my hand upwards towards your chest – and I see you wince in anticipation, bracing yourself for the ache of having me cleanse the now-darkening bruise dug into you by my knee. And while there is that momentary twinge of pain – I frown softly out of concern when I feel you twitch ever so slightly away from my hand and hear the whimper that escapes you – almost immediately it cools into a numb tingle.

When the pain quickly recedes I smile at the question in your eyes. A little home formula of mine, a sliver of freshness blended with a mild topical anesthetic. Weak enough to just take the bite out of your aches, without desensitizing you all that much and becoming problematic later tonight. With a wagging finger I gently admonish you for thinking that I would ever so carelessly hurt you. Your crestfallen eyes are summoned back up to me with a snapping of my fingers, as I kiss their tips before planting them softly to your lips. Again I tell you to just relax. Daddy is here to take care of you.

My hands snap to attention with a sharp focus as they wander your body with the soap. I take great care to gently scrub at your slit, working its numbing touch into your inflamed lips, and across the bruised finger-marks that dominate your tits. Running it across my hands, I scrub my fingers into your cheeks to work out the throbbing ache that seems to have settled into the bones of your jaw from being slapped around so much earlier.

My pace is slow, deliberate. If I were pressed I would admit that I'm getting as much out of this, out of just pampering you and taking care of your needs with silent understanding of what ails you, as I do out of the abusive violence that you embrace from me. Our life is like any good thriller – it's these calm periods that set the pace for all that came before and all that is to follow. Right now there is no verbal assault on your worth, no beating or grapple to prove my ownership over you, no ropes or restraints to steal away your freedom to be at peace. Only this tender moment, and the collar by which you choose to define yourself.

When it comes time to wash your back, I instruct you to wrap your arms around my shoulders to keep yourself above the water. My free hand moves from a resting place for your back to wrapping around your waist. The softness of your bosom is pressed greatly with the tightness of my embrace, the plush feeling against my torso threatening to awaken the beast inside my loins again. You can feel my anatomy shiver to life and press against the inside of your thigh even as I ignore its screaming need, keeping my focus on the soap gently cleansing the layers of filth from your back and ass.

Deftly sinking to my knees allows me to submerge you to your shoulders and rinses the soap and leftover debris from your skin after a few dunks. I hold tightly onto you as I stand fully and tell you to wrap your legs around my waist like before. Balancing the two of us against the treacherous bed of the river is a feat in agility but somehow I manage to plod along to the stairs and sit down. You're settled into my lap, your legs spread around me with your slit occasionally met by the length of my twitching member.

My arm twists slightly to let the plastic bag slide off of my shoulder and land in the grass next to us. Without taking my eyes off of you, I reach in to take hold of the last bit of your treatment. I'm surprised to see you reach for the bottle and snatch it from me with such vigor. Bemused, I arch a single brow in response to the naughty glint I'm catching in your eyes. It isn't until the unnecessary stretching as you begin scrubbing the conditioner into your own hair that I take hold of an inkling about your intentions. More to the point, in the way you're pushing your chest into my face and gently swaying from one side to the other.

Very well then, you naughty little girl. Let it not be said that your Daddy can't take a hint. I trade a series of wet kisses with you before trailing those gestures across your chin, along your throat, and finally burying them between your warm breasts. Your sudden intake of breath rewards me for my efforts, as I chew my way towards one of your solid, straining nipples. It's like sucking in a nub of stone past my lips they've gotten so hard over the course of the evening, but I don't mind that at all. Hunger of a nasty sort takes over me as the tip of my tongue slowly dances across the prize trapped in between my lips. I can't help but nibble gently and suckle like a starving babe brought to his mother's breast for the first time, my arms tightening their grip around your back as your head falls back in ecstasy.

Your hair now slathered and full of white foam that you need to let soak in, you fill your hands with a tight grip of my shoulders. Both of your feet are planted firmly on the steps to either side of my knees to support yourself as more and more of your strength is drawn out of you through my touch upon your breasts. My cock is no longer just slapping up against you from time to time – it's straining flat against your slit and aching for release. I can feel it in the sudden shift of the wind – this moment is about to change. With a grip on your wrists, I let you fall back and slowly sway you about to rinse the conditioner from your hair.

Here is the moment that the dam finally bursts and all the tension that's been winding us like clockwork flares to life.

Knowing that you can hold yourself steady by my shoulders, I draw you back to them and hook my arms underneath your knees and sweep you up off your feet. The sudden removal of your weight holding my cock pointed out allows it to jump to attention – and to spear its throbbing head just within your sucking pussy as I let you drop an inch.

We tense and hiss together. My grip never lets you back on your feet, making gravity struggle to pull you back down to Earth. Your blistering embrace seems almost fit to strangle the blood out of my dick as it bites its way into your slowly stretching depths in barely measurable increments. My fingers dig into the bones of your hips as I frantically work my ravenous mouth against your as-of-yet untouched nipple – any more tender moments are thrown out the window as my teeth sink into the ring of flesh around that nub and yank my head back to stretch it and your breast outwards.

Vicious urges stir to life almost immediately deep in my gut with the bawling scream that erupts from you. Mad with a brutal, absolute need to wreck you I let my hands carefully wander from your hips to gripping your ass. Immediately after you're torn down from your perch and slammed like so much simple meat down to the base of my cock. Inside of you I feel your canal screaming in protest at the way it's being forced to make room for so much of me without any time to prepare. Parts of you shift and stretch out of the way as I grind down hard enough to bruise your vulva in a frenzied need to bury myself all the way into your depths before I refresh my claim on your body.

That gurgling nonsense spewing from your jerking chest only stokes the fires that seem to be burning away all of the world around me. I can feel the vibration sinking into my teeth through your abused breast as I mash and contort it with all the muscles of my jaw. The only thing that's left is the aching demand that my manhood be satisfied, and the eager little slut you become when I'm working you like a brainless fuckhole.

It's just you and every cock-squeezing spasm in your pussy as you scramble to take hold of some solid purchase on me. Suddenly I shoot to my feet with you held in my embrace. My hands are sure to lock your ankles together behind my back to give you some additional stability. With each stair I ascend I grind your dripping cunt tighter against me until eventually it feels like my balls are going to force their way into you just to escape the pressure. I'm grunting now – slowly matching time with your unstable cries for both mercy and rape, falling into a lewd harmony together with you.

Finally reaching the fitted stone pathway that leads off from the stairs, I cradle-fuck you like this as long as it takes to reach the distant gazebo. Its size and vaulted ceiling catch the ragged desperation of your pleading and amplify it into a near deafening scream. Soon it's too much of a distraction, and so I surge forward to slam you back up against one of the stone columns and knock the wind out of you. My face snarls in yours even as I slam my hips upwards to spear you through again and tell you to keep your fucking whore mouth shut before I have to break it. Rabid intensity blazes in my eyes and dispels any notion that I won't make good on my word.

That reduces you to a decently hushed cry. Your lips are working frantically, begging for me to stop hurting you – but before I can even relent you're sobbing into my shoulder and swearing to be the best little cock-sleeve I've ever had if I just beat you senseless and break you down into a thousand little pieces. Another man might hesitate and ruin this for you. He might be unsure of how to proceed, concerned that you've been beaten silly or that he's taking advantage of you while you're vulnerable. But I'm not another man, and we both know which of those two options I'm going to pick.

As quickly as you're pulled away from the support column I'm throwing you onto a nearby wooden table. Your slippery cunt squelches loudly as it snaps back to its accustomed size, my cock torn from its blistering embrace. I relish the heavy slamming that echoes as it bounces under the impact and leaves you sprawling limply across its surface. Before you have a chance to regain your senses I make sure that I'm thundering my way onto the table behind you. It creaks in protest against our combined weight, the slightly peeling paint job evidence that it's not entirely brand new, but I know it will hold. From here I take my time to appreciate the beauty of the sight before me.

Once I see you struggling to push yourself up to all fours I know it's time to act. My hand flows out of the dark behind you and catches your head, slamming one side of your face back down into the wooden table. The force of the blow is carefully controlled – enough to shock you into obedience, without knocking you senseless again. I want you awake for this, after all. With my other hand I yank sharply at your hips and force your ass to bounce up into the air – a little drool slips past my lips while I watch the jiggle in your cheeks before they settle down. I don't want to waste too much time, though, so I sidle up right behind you and bend over your ass to start nibbling at the back of your neck and shoulders.

You gasp when I slowly begin to stroke the head of my dick repeatedly along the length of your slit. A tiny smile pulls my lips tightly to see you shudder and press your ass back against me while struggling to meet my member with your starving hole. Delicious – you've been a quick little slutty student and learned how to ask for Daddy's treatment without needing words. Rewarding you for your good behavior I let my cock press gently at your painfully sensitive clit and drag itself back up along your pussy lips before finally digging in full bore to eat the juicy meal you're waving before it.

I bury my teeth into your neck and shake you violently to trap the scream I can feel building up in your throat. I only tighten my grip as it fights to explode out, tearing through your skin and sinking to my gums. I feel you swallow the cry just so you have room to breath, but I don't pull my teeth out. Instead I start to suckle. Gently at first, just drawing a water-thin sample of your delicious crimson ambrosia. The force intensifies quickly until I'm sucking down gulps as I begin to slam my hips against yours with a feral tempo. It must feel like I'm fucking the blood right out of you.

The strength in your body begins to wane just so, a mixture of my attack on your neck and the exhaustion of how your abdominal muscles have been clamping down around your uterus. I jerk your legs backwards and your belly slams flat against the tabletop – the pain pries your eyes wide open as you cough and sputter but is soon forgotten when I spread the stance of your knees on the bench they've landed upon. I don't ever stop plowing you. I have a knee of my own on the bench, my other foot planted firmly on the surface of the table and forcing you to bow your spine and open up the last untouched depths of your tunnel until I feel my cock bashing into the base of your womb with unrestrained ferocity.

Almost immediately your body spasms along its whole length. The piercing agony of having your cervix speared has dragged you bodily to the edge of your sanity. I can feel the clenching of your pussy as it greedily takes hold of me. An energy that has been caged inside of you rips loose and ripples through every muscle of your body. It's almost too much to feel attacking me as your whole body seems to clench inwards towards our single point of contact.

You feel my teeth rip loose from you and make room for the climaxing scream that nearly tears your lungs apart. All that crushing force is too much to handle all focused on my cock at once. My fists slam into the table on either side of your head as I press my body as tightly against yours as I can fit it before a slick heat of my own blasts into your depths. My ragged breath pours over your ear with a single word, repeated. Mine. Mine.

Mine.


	4. A Huge Thank You!

Good _God_ people! Ever since I started posting my recent work, the good people of AO3 have been absolute _dolls_ to me! I've been struggling to visualize the fact that _But A Walk In the Woods_ on it's _own_ has ready over 940 hits since I first posted it! That's around 12 (and a quarter!) hits _every_ day since it went up, if my math checks out. For reference, that makes it my single highest-viewed work! The second-highest is [Better Than Butter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24280168/chapters/58551931), which comes in at just under 760!

  
If the numbers weren't there in stark grey and white (hooray for the Reversi skin omg) then I'm not sure I would have been able to believe that so many people could be interested in my work. I am beyond humbled and grateful to every single one of my readers, whether you've combed through everything I've posted or only read a few lines. Thank you so very much for your time - it really means a lot to me to see that people actually like what I write!  
  
So I wanted to take this opportunity to offer back a little something. There are a few more ideas that I had for *BAWIW* when I first started writing it, all those years ago, that just never came to fruition because of time constraints and a lack of motivation. If we can reach 1,000 hits just on this story alone, I'll come back to it and finally give it a full, clear ending - at least two chapters worth of material - involving public bondage, public sex, group sex, and eventually aftercare!

**Author's Note:**

> Readers should be aware of the following fetish/trigger warnings:
> 
> Bathroom Control  
> Bloodplay  
> Exhibitionism  
> Impact Play  
> Physical Violence  
> Pet Play  
> Public Sex  
> Public Urination  
> Verbal Humiliation


End file.
